Page 123 of The Seaside Homecoming
“Yes,” Claire answered between panted breaths. “You?”
He smiled into her eyes. “I am, thanks to you.”
———
Knowing they had a long drive ahead of them, the major called for their carriage to be readied well before the midnight supper. Claire, exhausted and content, fell asleep on the way home, her head on Sarah’s shoulder, while Sarah rested against the padded carriage wall. Across from them, Viola slept on Major Hutton’s arm.
When Claire awoke, only William Hammond was awake, staring out the window at the starlit sky. As if sensing her scrutiny, he looked over and their gazes tangled and held.
“Almost home,” he whispered.
And the low, intimate words did strange things to her heart.
They returned to Sidmouth as the moon rose in the east. The Huttons delivered Mr. Hammond and Claire to Broadbridge’s before continuing back to Sea View and Westmount.
William held the door for her and helped her off with her cloak, fumbling in the darkness to hang it in the closet by feel and traces of moonlight. Then, facing her in the dim hall, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Thank you for being there tonight.”
“My pleasure. I enjoyed it.”
The landing lamp had burned itself out. The fire in the morning room had burned to embers, but he managed to ignite a long match from it, then lit two candles and handed one to her.
“Can you find your way?”
She nodded, then realizing he might not be able to see her, said, “I know it by heart.”
He reached up and traced gentle fingers over the contours of her face, cheekbone to chin, his thumb coming to rest beneath her lower lip. In a voice low and husky he said, “I know it by heart too.”
29
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were ... so disgusting to you.
—Jane Austen,Pride and Prejudice
Two days later, Sarah opened the library windows to allow in the fresh summer breeze. She saw a carriage turn from Glen Lane onto Sea View’s drive. The fine coach-and-four had a crest on its door and a liveried coachman at the reins.
She stepped into the entry hall just as Mr. Gwilt opened the door to a handsome, well-dressed gentleman. He said, “Good day, sir. How may we help you?”
“I am here to see Miss Summers.”
Sarah walked forward. “I am Miss Summers. One of them.” And the only one home currently, as Emily and Georgiana had again gone to the school—Emily to read to the pupils and Georgiana to play ball with Cora, a tomboy after her own heart.
“Ah, I should have specified,” the man said. “Miss Claire Summers.”
Sarah stilled, her mouth parting and pulse quickening. “She is not here. And you are...?”
“Lord Bertram!” Persephone Craven called, gliding into the hall from the drawing room. “How wonderful to see you. Although, I confess, not a complete surprise, as Sidney mentioned he’d had a letter from you.”
This was Claire’s betrayer, Sarah realized. Here. Now.
He turned toward Miss Craven, face a mask of cool civility, clearly not as delighted to see her as she was him. “Miss Craven.” He bowed.
“Come and join us in the drawing room. Sidney will be so pleased to see you.”
“Actually, I need to speak with Miss Summers first.”
“About what?” Persephone asked, lips in a pout.
